


it's you, it will always be you

by autumnwaltz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Jonsa babies - Freeform, Marriage, Oral Sex, Possessive Jon Snow, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, R Plus L Equals J, Rough Sex, Smut, self indulgent as hell, they love each other but they don't know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26494165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnwaltz/pseuds/autumnwaltz
Summary: He betrayed the north, he betrayed his queen, he betrayed the million people who lived in the city.And yet —And yet.Sansa wanted him back. To Winterfell. The thought of her name and Winterfell opens a gate of flood in his chest, filling it with a heavy pang of longing, sorrow, and regret. He wanted to go back, but he felt thoroughly undeserving of it, as he had felt about many other things in his life.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 68
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

_Come home, Jon._

The raven arrived a week ago, and with Jon looking at it intensely each night, he had memorized the slope of her feminine handwriting, dainty and pretty and too pure for this world. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could almost imagine he could smell her through the parchment. 

He had been in Castle Black for a month now, his punishment of exile making him feel a bit like he’s fourteen again, lost and nowhere to go. Any thought of finding a semblance of honor again was gone. He did not know what to do anymore but the constant repetitive days of chores in the castle. He hadn’t said his vows, no one tried to make him. They were either wary or in awe of him or both. His guilt over what happened in Kings Landing was weighing him down in every step he took - what kind of supposed hero was he, leading an army of foreigners, two dragons, and an irreconcilable mad queen to a city who did not deserve to burn? How could he live with himself, knowing it’s his fault, his fault that countless suffered and died, his fault that King’s Landing burned to the ground, his fault that the queen he chose to kneel for died in his arms? He betrayed the north, he betrayed his queen, he betrayed the million people who lived in the city.

And yet — 

And yet. 

Sansa wanted him back. To Winterfell. The thought of her name and Winterfell opens a gate of flood in his chest, filling it with a heavy pang of longing, sorrow, and regret. He wanted to go back, but he felt thoroughly undeserving of it, as he had felt about many other things in his life. 

“You’re moping again, Little Crow.”

His head snapped to Tormund, tall and unkempt red shaggy hair and all carefree grin. He made a small noncommittal noise and his eyes drew back to the small paper in his hand. 

“I am not.”

“Har! And my name is not Tormund Giantsbane! Of course, you’re moping, though I don’t see why you should, you pretty little sister is making you return to that big castle of yers.”

“She’s not my sister!”

“She’s not, is she? Of course not, ‘cause she’s yer lady. Ever since she got here with beautiful Brienne, you’ve spent all of your hours trailing her around like a puppy.”

Jon sighed. “You know it wasn’t like that. I only wanted to protect her.”

“Har! And how would you be able to do that if you’re freezing out here! Sometimes I really got no idea how that tiny mind of yers works.” Tormund chuckled. He sat down next to Jon by the fire. “She wants you to go home, Little Crow. You want to go home. I don’t see why you’re still here brooding like ya always do.” 

“I don’t deserve it. I only belong here now.” Jon replied morosely. 

“Bullshit! All your life you’ve denied yourself of what you want, yer just making yerself purposely miserable at this point.” 

Jon’s silence rang across the room. Only Ghost’s snoring could be heard. “I’m retiring early tonight,” His voice tired and withdrawn. “You should go, Tormund.” Tormund rolled his eyes as he left the chambers. 

That night he dreamed of red hair. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stood there for a long time, embracing, just as they had in Castle Black, uncaring of the eyes trained on their backs. She closed her eyes and took a whiff of his smell and said, “You need a bath.”
> 
> He laughed, it was a laugh she had sorely missed. “Sansa, ” he breathed.

“Your Grace, a raven from the Night’s Watch. They ask for grains and supplies,” reported Maester Wolkan. Since her coronation, his presence and wisdom had always been a source of comfort to her. He reminded her of old Maester Luwin, who had taught her her letters, and gave her praise whenever she answered a question right. She loved praises as a kid, everyone had always told her she was pretty, and then beautiful once she got past the age of seven. She had always felt good about being beautiful because it had meant to her that everyone would like her, but as she grew up she had realized that it drew nothing but unwanted leering from dishonorable men, and that people would only see a pretty face and how best to exploit it. 

_The Night’s Watch_. She ignored the way her heartbeat had stuttered for a moment. She had sent a raven, giving him pardon and asking him to come home. The North was her territory and they all knew Bran was only appeasing the Unsullied when he sentenced Jon to the Wall. There wasn’t even a point of guarding it anymore, since the Wildlings and Northmen had made peace with each other when they fought together during the Long Night. 

“Do we have enough to spare from our stores?” she asked. They were standing along the battlements, overseeing the vast landscape of green that spring had brought. He kissed her forehead there, once. It had been a long time ago, when they had only just won Winterfell back. He said that they should be able to trust each other because they had so many enemies now. And then he went South and gave the North away to a pretty queen, anyway. Thinking about it had still stung, but she had learned how best to ignore it. She understood his motivations, they needed her armies, but the fact that he still acted like that around the Dragon Queen...No, she was done wasting her time thinking about it. 

“Yes, your grace. The harvest was plentiful this time, rebuilding the glass gardens had been a great venture.” Feeding her people had been her number one priority, and she had spent countless hours perusing the figures that they needed, and negotiating with the Iron Bank proved to be worth it at the end. The North still had a long way to go, but she knew that they were in a far better position since the Boltons took over. 

“Begin packing them for Castle Black, the Starks had always been friends with the Night’s Watch.”

“Very well, Your Grace. One more thing, your brother is on his way to Winterfell, it seemed he had accepted your pardon. He is estimated to arrive by the end of the week.”

Sansa blinked. This time, she could not ignore the way her stomach tightened, in what, excitement, trepidation? She was not sure. She had sent her letter because she had missed his presence, yes, but also because she knew he didn’t belong in the Wall. He was a wolf, no matter who his biological father was, and he belonged in Winterfell. _With her,_ a traitorous voice in her head whispered. 

“That is good news, Maester Wolkan.” She shot him a small hint of a smile and nodded in dismissal. He bowed and left. 

She spent the rest of the week drowning herself in her duties. The petitions were the regular squabbles among lords, and she listened to the smallfolk. They had only just started repopulating Wintertown, and repair had been slow, but ongoing. They were short of able-bodied Northmen, after all. Many had died during the previous wars, leaving only the elderly, women, and children. She made sure there were free hot meals to those who needed it and was glad to see the gauntness of their cheekbones were lessening day by day. Seeing children once more playing in the castle grounds granted her a feeling of respite, their innocence, and laughter a needed breath of fresh air. 

“Your grace, Jon Snow and his retinue have been seen by scouts by the Kingsroad, he will be here in a few minutes.” One of the guards informed her. She thanked him and he bowed again.

She stood at the same spot her mother and father used to stand as they watched their children practice archery in the courtyard. Now she was staring at the arch of the gate, waiting. She saw a blur of white first, Ghost’s paws pouncing in determination. She immediately went down and greeted the wolf, engulfing his giant head in her arms, his fur as soft as ever. He licked her face repeatedly and she laughed, abandoning all sorts of queenly manners she tried to uphold. “I missed you, boy. Did you miss me?” He licked her face again in answer, and she took that as a yes. 

And then she looked up, and there he was.

He looked the same, the upper half of his hair tied at the back, the way her father used to. He wore the cloak she gave him, back when they were traveling the North and campaigning for their cause. He stood uneasily, his eyes unsure of what to do. People around the courtyard were watching in curiosity. She stood up and walked towards him, and he bowed. “Your grace,” his voice had sounded the same, his deep northern accent rolling in every syllable. She gave him a smile, “Welcome home, Jon.” She did know who moved first. The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, his hold tight and reassuring. They stood there for a long time, embracing, just as they had in Castle Black, uncaring of the eyes trained on their backs. She closed her eyes and took a whiff of his smell and said, “You need a bath.”

He laughed, it was a laugh she had sorely missed. “ _Sansa,_ ” he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i'll try to update every other day. thank you for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me to stop,” he said again. She only kissed him instead, and it was softer this time, full of anticipation and yearning. 
> 
> “Sansa…” he was breathing so heavily. They both were.
> 
> “I don’t want you to stop.”

Jon came to her solar after he thoroughly washed. It wouldn’t do to stink before the presence of the queen, after all. He had contemplated on staying in his chambers but at the end he couldn’t help himself, his body moving through the hallways until it stopped before her door. Podrick stood guard, ever loyal to Sansa. 

“Your grace! Um… my lord. Lord Snow,” Podrick stammered nervously, unsure of how to address the man who had been king in the north only a year before. 

“None of that, Podrick. I’m not king anymore. Is Queen Sansa in?”

“Yes, my lord. I have been given orders to let you in.”

Jon was surprised at that. “Thank you,” he tried not to sound too eager. 

As he entered the room, he found her doing needlework in a chair by the fireplace, with Ghost lying at her feet. She was humming under her breath. 

“I’m sorry I missed your coronation,” he began. Sansa looked up at him, “It’s fine, Jon. You were indisposed.”

“Still, I should have been there, Arya was off towards god knows where, and with Bran at King’s Landing, you deserved to have someone here with you.” He took a seat next to her, and she offered him a cup of wine. He raised his eyebrows at that.

“I don’t…I only partake sometimes. To relax.” She wasn’t going to be like Cersei wine in hand in every second of the day, almost as drunk as her brother Tyrion at all times, there was no way she would let herself become Cersei. They lapsed into silence. He should have tried to think of what to say before going here, but he was too restless, and he was an _idiot._

“Jon, you should know that you are free now. Perhaps not at the south of the Neck, but you may go wherever you want in the North. You were our king before, and our people should remember that.” She exhaled. 

“I- Sansa, I’m the worst of the oathbreakers. I gave away the North and killed the queen I pledged to. I don’t deserve this. I only came here as a representative of the Night’s Watch, for the supplies,” _and to see you,_ his mind added. He took a swing of his drink. Ultimately, he wasn’t sure how to act around her. She had also betrayed his trust when she told Tyrion of his parentage. But he knew being angry about that was stupid, she was only thinking of what’s best for the entire Westeros, and she didn’t burn down King’s Landing.

She stroked Ghost’s fur. “That doesn’t matter now.”

“Of course it matters! How could you let me be here, knowing I did what I did?!”

“Because I am tired, Jon! I am tired of feeling angry and resentful, there are so many things to do and too little time to keep track of all of them, and I love the work, I love our people and my duties, and I am surrounded by many people everyday, but it’s still so lonely, Jon. I’m tired of being _alone_ ,” her voice cracked. 

Jon, who had been staring at the fire, turned towards her. She was wearing a blue robe, and the orange hue of the room made her hair gleam brightly, and she was blinking her eyes too fast, like she was trying hard not to let tears escape. 

“Sansa…I’m sorry—”

“Jon,”

“No, please, I am sorry for snapping at you,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I went South, I should have listened to you, Sansa. About everything. I knew the North wasn’t mine to give, but I gave it anyway as if it was nothing more than livestock. I was wrong about many things. I shouldn’t have followed her South, I shouldn’t have helped her slaughter a million people.”

“You couldn’t have known,” she said.

“But you did. You never trusted her from the beginning.”

“After everything that’s happened of course I wouldn’t trust a foreigner coming to conquer the North, our family bled for its independence. Thousands of Northmen died for it. I was upset.”

He closed his eyes. “I was a fool.” _You know nothing, Jon Snow._

“Without your efforts of alliance, there wouldn’t be the North to rule over now as the entire Westeros would have been crawling with corpses. You saved us, Jon. And you saved Westeros again the moment you thrust a knife at her chest. I’m sorry, Jon. She was your family,” she had stopped knitting by now.

“You’re my family too,” he interrupted, his voice resolute and hard. For a moment, he saw Dany’s face. Her silver hair and purple eyes had bewitched him, and he had been as weak as any other men the moment she showed interest. He was too starved for affection that he had been holding back since Sansa came to Castle Black. He was disgusted with himself when he realized that the yearning that he had felt for his sister was not natural. When he found out he was a Targaryen, he almost laughed in pain. Of course he was a Targaryen. As depraved as he was, it only explained things. 

He swallowed. “When I visited Tyrion, I was still in denial. So many things had happened that day, I was wrapped in a haze. And then I saw Arya. She was covered in dust, from head to toe. She told me of what she saw. She could have died there in King's Landing, heavens know how she survived. Tyrion told me you would never kneel to her, and she would burn you too. You and Arya. That’s what took me out of my stupor. I knew I should do something. She had just killed an entire city in a day…and her people were cheering the destruction she had brought. I could never…I couldn’t let that happen to you, Sansa. That’s why I killed her. Justice for the people that had just been slaughtered didn’t matter to me, your face was what I only thought of.” 

She stood up. “Oh, Jon.” She tugged at him until he was standing too. She gently cupped his face with both her hands. The air around them had changed. He wasn’t sure if it was the wine’s influence, or her scent, but he was drunk on everything about her, and she was so close and his self control was non-existent at this point. 

“Sansa, I’m going to kiss you now.” He was staring intensely at her face, his eyes had gone dark, his breath uneven. She gave the slightest nod and he leaned in and captured her lips. It was aggressive and frantic, he was pushing his lips into hers with so much fervor he was relieved when she started kissing him back. She tasted like wine and lemon cakes, and he hungered for more. She gave a yelp of approval when he nipped at her lower lip, opening her mouth to him. He didn’t know how long they were kissing until they broke apart to breathe air. He started kissing her nose, her cheeks, and trailing down her neck. His hands were flush against her back and her fingers were gripping his curls tightly. “Sansa,” he murmured. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped as he continued down her neckline, licking and nipping at every bit of surface. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said again. She only kissed him instead, and it was softer this time, full of anticipation and yearning. 

“Sansa…” he was breathing so heavily. They both were.

“I don’t want you to stop.” He nodded, and as he lifted her she drew her legs around her waist. They fumbled their way towards the room connected to her solar, bumping at a few furnitures. They didn’t care, though.

“Can I take this off?” He gestured towards her robe. 

“Yes, please.”

She was only wearing a tiny shift underneath. Gods… he was so hard it was painful. Her nipples had tightened in his gaze, her chest beautifully moving as she took each breath. She lifted his shirt, eyeing the expanse of his chest appreciatively. Gods, he couldn’t believe this was happening, but he’d be damned if they stopped now. He took off her shift, a noise escaping his throat at the view, there was Sansa, in front of him, naked and willing. So damn beautiful. He couldn’t believe his luck. “Fuck,” he said to himself. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” 

He proceeded to hastily untie his breeches. He captured his lips again, and they were moving until they found themselves lying on her bed. He grasped her right breast in one hand as he enveloped her left nipple into his mouth, sucking. She arched her back and moaned. “Oh gods, Jon, please,” he trailed his attentions to her other breast, licking and sucking all the way. Her skin tasted like vanilla, and some kind of flower he couldn’t name. She tasted like sin. She squirmed underneath him as he made his way down, lapping at her stomach, and she opened her legs as he reached the apex of her thighs. She screamed as he took her clit in his mouth and sucked, gently, and when she tightened her hold on his hair, he increased his pressure before moving on to her nether lips. She was sopping wet. “Sansa, you sweet girl, you’re soaking.” He plunged his tongue inside, along with two of his fingers, trying to find the spot that elicited the most response. 

“Jon, Jon, Jon…” She was incoherent, basking under his ministrations. He spelled his name on her, reveling at the taste of her juices. “Please, Jon, please more,” he moved up and took her mouth, frenzy and needy. 

“Sansa, do you want my cock? Your bastard brother’s cock?” His voice was hoarse.

“Yes! Please, please…” She was a lady thorough and thorough, even when she’s being devoured in her bed. 

“Say it.”

“I want your… cock,” her cheeks were almost as red as her hair, and her eyes were delirious with want.

He thrust inside with a grunt, and they both paused for a moment. “You can move now.” It was what he was waiting for. He gripped her knee tight across her chest, and slid in and out. “Fuck, Sansa, Sansa, Sansa,” it was taking all of his power not to take her like an animal. She laughed. “Harder, Jon, I’m not made of glass.” He took her both her hands in his, eyes locked into hers, and drove harder. She screamed. 

He panted, “Sansa, sweet girl, you have the tightest cunt in the world. You’re taking me so good,” she mewled in response. He snapped his hips into hers, like a wolf in heat, and he was determined to make this last as long as possible. Her hands broke free and pushed his buttocks into her, he was so deep, so hard, and she had never felt like this before. He was thrusting like a crazed madman, cursing and muttering her name in his breath. She bucked her hips against each of his thrust. “Jon, I’m so close,” 

“Sansa, baby, you can let go, sweet girl,”

His muscles are taut in her hands. She released her climax, her toes curling, moaning in his ears. He buried himself into the hilt, lost in the feel of her. When he felt her clench and unclench around him, he knew he was close too. “Jon, come inside me, put a Stark in me,” she whispered. Her words made him spill his cum inside her with a yell, burying his face in her neck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the back of her mind, she was worried that the servants who were up early would have heard them, but she’s lost all common senses to care now. All she knew was him, the smell of his neck, the taste of his sweat, the feel of his cock brushing the most pleasurable spots of her insides.

She woke up at dawn. There was an arm wrapped across her waist, and Jon was snoring softly at her neck. She stiffened as she remembered what had happened last night, gods… She can’t believe she fell into bed with her former half brother.  _ And immensely enjoyed it.  _ Heat crept up her face. She did not expect Jon to get so carried away, and neither did she expect herself to give in to her desires. She knew there were still a lot of things they needed to talk about, and now they have to add this at the top of it, how is she supposed to face him now? 

His cock was hard and flush at her buttocks, and she couldn’t help but grind at it a little. Ugh, that felt good. Her hand crept in between her thighs, finding the tiny nub that makes her insane with need, and rubbed at it to ease the ache. She couldn’t stop grinding now, while furiously rubbing, trying to not to pant so loudly. She didn’t even notice he was starting to wake.

“ _ Sansa _ ,” Jon breathed. 

“Jon...” her eyes were closed, too concentrated in her pleasure. 

“Let go, sweet girl. Let me take care of you after,” he whispered. His hand was toying at her nipple, pinching and rubbing. She moaned, arching her back in submission, her legs shaking. He was kissing her neck, sucking at the spot she liked best. 

“Baby, let me take you again. I promise I’ll make you feel good,” he begged. She rolled onto her back and spread her legs. He’d shake his head at himself for being so depraved and too weak, but right now he did not care. He wasted no time pouncing at her and catching her lips with his, sliding his tongue inside, trying to taste every single essence she had. She kissed back in a haze of insatiable lust, scratching at his back with her fingernails. She ground her hips to his. 

He chuckled, “Patience, sweet girl,” catching her hand and interlocking her fingers around his. 

“Jon,  _ I swear to the gods _ , if you don’t get inside right now--”

Her words died when he sheathed himself in her entrance. Her hold on his back tightened, and she moaned loudly. At the back of her mind, she was worried that the servants who were up early would have heard them, but she’s lost all common senses to care now. All she knew was him, the smell of his neck, the taste of his sweat, the feel of his cock brushing the most pleasurable spots of her insides. She bucked her hips desperately as he thrust forcefully, and withdrew slowly, too slowly. 

“Do you like that, sweetheart,” he panted.

“Yes, yes… Jon… please, harder, please,”

He threw one of her legs over his shoulder, all while sucking at her neck. 

“Baby, you have the best cunt in the world, you’re the best girl in the world, the sweetest girl,” he snapped his hips furiously, filling her cunt again and again and again. The angle made him fill her to the brim, and she had never felt so full her entire life. 

“Fuck,”  _ thrust,  _ “Fuck, Sansa,”  _ thrust, _ “Oh Sansa,”  _ thrust.  _ His fingers slid to her clit, stroking wildly. 

“I love the way your cunt grips me, Sansa, such a  _ warm, wet cunt,  _ baby,” he caught his lips into her, his cock was driving into her in feral abandon. She was a moaning, shaking, mess. She kissed him back as desperately as she could. 

“Please, Jon, don’t stop talking,”

“You like me saying filthy words? I’ve always wanted to do this, Sansa. Since I saw you at Castle Black. It was perverted back then, because even when I thought you were my sister what I felt for you was far from platonic. I wanted you, and it was sinful and wrong, but I would take myself in my hand every night and imagine what it would be like to taste your cunt, to feel your cunt, to have you in my bed.” He placed her other leg at his shoulder and thrust so deep that she cried out.

“Fuck, Jon,”

His eyes were so dark it was nearly black. He grunted at his every stroke, savoring the feel of the folds of her smooth, damp muscles clenching his member so hard. She was so wet that squelching sounds could be heard along the vulgar slapping of bare hips. 

“Jon, please, please,”

He rubbed her clit gently, driving into her harder like a crazed animal. 

“Baby, you can let go, Sansa, it’s okay, come for me,” he muttered. 

“Jon, I… Jon!” She screamed, her climax washing over her like a storm, her legs uncontrollably trembling. 

“Fuck!” He pounded into her, cumming after a dozen thrusts, filling her cunt with his seed. 

He panted in exhaustion. “Good morning, Sansa,” throwing a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Morning,” she lightly whispered, almost shy. 

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. When he withdrew, her lips caught his and they kissed softly, tenderly. He went back to lay next to her, tucking her into his chest until they were embracing each other. His heart was beating so fast he thought he might die.

“Do you… do you regret--”

“Of course not, Jon. I liked it,” she mumbled.

He grinned wolfishly, “I quite liked it too.” 

She broke into a small chuckle and slapped his chest. “My handmaidens will come any minute now, you have to go.”

“Let them see, I couldn’t care less,” 

“Jon! Don’t be - that’s scandalous!”

He sighed, “Give me a few minutes. And I’ll go.” 

“We need to talk about this too,” she started as he sat up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come to you tonight, and we’ll talk about it then,” he kissed her forehead one last time, standing and picking up each clothing that’s been carelessly thrown away the previous night. He put it on one by one, feeling a certain pair of blue eyes at his back. With one last look, he left the room. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Enough,” Jon stood, his chair scraping threateningly across the stone floor, slamming his palms against the table. “I am a King no more, I gave up that right when I kneeled to another queen. I may not have the Stark name, but no matter who my father was, my mother Lyanna and Eddard Stark’s blood still run through my veins. I do not give the smallest shit about your distrust in me, but you have no right to disrespect Queen Sansa,” he hissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is going to be self-indulgent as hell yup.

Winter had been harsh to Winter town. A number of the small and neat houses built of stone and log needed repair and Jon was glad to have some work cut out for him. There was mud on the streets, and the smell reeked of shit, but it was not as bad as in King’s Landing. They needed to do something about the sewer system. He spent the entire day sawing wood and hacking at it with nails, supervising the rest of the men on which damages to fix. Some looked at him with odd fascination but followed his orders nevertheless. When he returned to the castle, the great hall was busy with supper. He was covered in sweat and exhaustion gleaned off of him, but it was a satisfying kind of tiredness. He strode past the long tables and into the high seats, nodding at Sansa and taking a seat at her right. 

“Good evening,” he said.

“I heard you were in Winter town all day, overseeing repairs,” 

“Aye, it was good to have something to do,” he shared. 

“I had sent Ser Davos, my Hand, as a representative of the crown to some Northern Houses before you arrived, to inquire about how they were doing and how Winterfell may be able to assist them,” she added, goblet in her hand.

He softened as he thought of Ser Davos, who had been astutely loyal to him before. He always held the old man in high regard, and now he was thankful Davos kept to Sansa's side after everything else. 

“You named him your hand,”

“Yes… There were a few left I could trust. Brienne left for King’s Landing, but I’m glad Ser Davos and Podrick stayed. They serve me loyally still, and their advice and protection is indispensable,” she added.

“Good, good… I am glad,” he coughed awkwardly. 

She looked at him strangely, tilting her head to the side, “Good.” She inhaled sharply, back straight and head high, and started in a loud voice, “My lords!” Silence rang across the room as they focused their attention on their queen. She cleared her throat before saying, “It pleases me greatly to see each one of you well, rebuilding the castle and Winter town is no easy feat, and our remarkable efforts have laid good fruits!” They cheered. “I have also decided to pardon my cousin Jon Snow, who’s actions in King’s Landing have saved Westeros from further doom, and he has returned, as you can see,” she gestured towards her right. More cheering followed.

“Your grace, he is a Targaryen, how can we be sure we could trust him?” A voice boomed, they all turned to look at Lord Glover, who had been visiting that week. His face was outraged, and the disgust in his voice as he said _Targaryen_ was glaringly obvious. 

Her voice turned cold, “May I remind you, Lord Glover, that without him, we wouldn’t have been able to retake Winterfell, and we would have been helpless against the dead during the Great War. But you wouldn’t know that, as you hid in your castle when we called the banners for help while others had died fighting,” 

Lord Glover lowered his head. The men started jeering and banging their cups against the table. 

“You chose Jon Snow as you king once, and you will give him the respect he is owed,” Jon slid his hand and took her hand into his, running his thumb across her knuckles. 

“Your grace,” another man began, “now that Lord Snow is back, will he be taking the crown again?”

Of course, they’d say that. No matter how good she was at ruling, some never failed to remind her that she lacked a penis between her legs, and that it’s never going to be good enough for them.

“Enough,” Jon stood, his chair scraping threateningly across the stone floor, slamming his palms against the table. “I am a King no more, I gave up that right when I kneeled to another queen. I may not have the Stark name, but no matter who my father was, my mother Lyanna and Eddard Stark’s blood still run through my veins. I do not give the smallest shit about your distrust in me, but you have _no right_ to disrespect Queen Sansa,” he hissed. The room fell mute, all eyes now unabashedly staring at the enraged former king. Targaryens always had anger issues. 

The mention of his mother and uncle had overthrown the men. They knew Lyanna and Ned, had played with them as children and supped with them in feasts. No matter who sired him, Eddard Stark raised Jon Snow, and there was no doubt about that. 

“If I may, Your Grace, my Lord,” a man from White Harbor said, his tone reverential. “For the stability of the kingdom, there needs to be an heir. Have you given any thoughts on the several proposals for your hand?” 

Jon clenched his jaw and turned to glance at Sansa. 

“I will be discussing matters of marriage with my closest advisors, rest assured that we will come into a decision before the year ends,” she replied, her voice tight and assured. The man nodded his head in acquiesce. 

“I will be retiring now, please enjoy yourselves for the rest of the night.” As she stood, everyone stood in deference until she had finally left the great hall. After mulling over it for a few seconds, Jon scrambled and left after her, with no intention of going back to his chambers. 

____

“Marriage?” was the first word that came out of his mouth as he entered her chambers. There were no guards tonight. 

“Jon, I was about to take my bath—”

“I didn’t know you were getting married,” he repeated. He could not understand why he felt so betrayed. 

“I am a queen, of course, I have to get married,” she answered, annoyed at his constant interruptions.

“But it’s too soon! I—”

“You what?” she asked sharply.

He looked down and unclenched his hands, “nothing.”

Sansa sighed. She held out a hand, “Come, the bathtub is big enough for the two of us.”

He took her hand and let her lead him into the area with a large wooden tub at the center. It was, indeed, big enough for two people. The table at the side had numerous bottles of oil, a soap, and a cloth. When Sansa started unlacing her gown, he stepped in and spoke in a low tone, “Let me.” 

Her laces were intricate, but undoing them was simple enough. He bent down and kissed each skin that’s been unraveled until she was naked. He hardened at the sight of her, her breasts were perfect, their tips pink and stiff. His eyes drank at the curve of her tiny waist, the thatch of red hair of her womanhood, and her endless legs. It’s no wonder his brain stopped working whenever she entered a room. She gracefully lowered herself into the bathtub, eyeing him expectantly. 

_Fuck it_ , he thought as he started tearing off his clothes; there was _no way_ he was going to deny her request. 

He slipped behind her, cradling her in his chest. The water was hot, and it smelled distinctly of Sansa. He toyed with a lock of her hair. They said nothing for a while, and he claimed the washcloth and proceeded to clean her. Kissing every bit of scar he found. She liked it when he rubbed her back. When he was done, Sansa took the cloth from him and scrubbed him in return. 

“I’ve heard rumors about what happened to you as the Lord Commander, but I didn’t want to pry,” she said, running the cloth over his scarred chest. 

“We had only just got back from our rescue mission in Hardhome. Many brothers were less than pleased that I fought to keep Wildlings alive. Olly, my steward, came into my solar and told me they had information about Uncle Benjen. I was so excited, I went out unarmed. They were gathered in the courtyard, and at the in a wooden plank, the word traitor was carved. Before I could ask what’s happening, they put a knife in me, one by one. Olly did the killing blow. They left me in the snow to die. I thought of you, you know. Before dying. In my head you were singing softly, brushing Lady’s coat. I thought of Robb too, of Bran, Rickon, Arya. The snow was cold, but I could barely feel anything at the end. I woke up on a slab after the Red Woman brought me back,” his voice was steady, calming, but each word pained her. 

“I’ve got scars too,” she said. “But I— I don’t want to talk about it, for now,” she swallowed.

“It’s alright, Sansa, you can tell me about it when you’re ready.” He kissed the top of her head. 

“Your hair…” he trailed off, running his fingers through the strands.

“What about it?” She asked.

“Nothing… I just like red hair. It looks good,” she turned her head to smile at him. He quickly caught her lips with his. When they broke off, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t want you to get married, Sansa.” She laughed, and if he could bottle the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would. And it scared him.

“Jon, no one can know about this. The lords are prickly enough as it is,” she said. He nodded, he wasn't done.

"I want to have a say on who you marry. I could help you pick the right man." She hummed in agreement, idly lying her head on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "She laughed, and if he could bottle the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would. And it scared him." is from six of crows


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many also said the daughters of Winterfell are witches for being able to drive a prince of the realm mad enough to kidnap her and incite thousands of men to march to war in her name. Perhaps it was true, perhaps Sansa was a witch, for she had captivated him so. Because unbeknownst to her, she had bewitched him unconditionally, that his days were filled with endless thoughts of Sansa, that he considered that he might actually be ill. 

Sansa Stark had always been beautiful. She knew that. He knew that. Everyone knew that. But as he watched her flutter her eyelashes against her cheeks as she slept, her hands tucked beneath her face, moonlight gleaming on her hair, he knew he’d never seen a sight more lovely. After their bath, they dried themselves and settled into the bed, with Jon promptly claiming a hold on her waist. He had been with women before, had slept in their beds, but it had never felt as soothing as this. Many believed that Starks have magic in their blood, having married among the Children of the Forest at some point, and with their connection to their direwolves, it was undeniable. Many also said the daughters of Winterfell are witches for being able to drive a prince of the realm mad enough to kidnap her and incite thousands of men to march to war in her name. Perhaps it was true, perhaps Sansa _was_ a witch, for she had captivated him so. Because unbeknownst to her, she had bewitched him unconditionally, that his days were filled with endless thoughts of Sansa, that he considered that he might actually be ill. 

It wasn’t the kind of illness he could simply go to Maester Wolkan about. Tormund would probably only laugh at him and tell him to stop being a wuss and just steal her. If they _were_ Beyond the Wall, perhaps he would have just stolen her away into a cave. But they weren’t Beyond the Wall, he was at court now, and had to deal with the incessant trivialities of tradition and manners.

He sighed, and gazed at her absently until sleep claimed him.

_________

She roused into consciousness when she felt him peck her forehead. He withdrew his arms at her and the air felt colder than it was before. She watched him dress himself. It must have been dawn. Her handmaidens will arrive in a few hours. There was a soft sound of the door clicking shut. It rang loudly in her ears. She hated that sound.

She tried to go back to sleep, pretending the weight of his arm was still there.

________

The muscles in Jon’s arms were burning as he sparred with Podrick. The shy boy had turned into a man, he had grown quicker and stronger, and better with a sword. Jon sidestepped into the left and drove his sword near Podrick’s underarm, to which Podrick promptly halted with a maneuver Brienne must have taught him. They swung their swords into the other, a dance that Jon could never get tired of. He loved doing this, the blood rushing in his ears, Longclaw in his hand, because as much as he loathed killing, fighting had always made him feel unstoppable. It ended when Jon found a weak spot, after a few minutes of patient studying. Podrick was quick, but Jon was faster. 

Podrick exhaled tiredly, “I yield.” Jon removed his sword from Podrick’s neck and tried to catch his breath. 

“It’s good that you’re back, my lord. Queen Sansa had missed you,” that quickly took his interest.

“She did?” 

“Well, she never said it aloud, but she had been different ever since you left, and Arya and Bran and Brienne, too. She tries to hide it, I think, ‘cause she’s the queen, but I always thought she was lonely. And I think she’s happier now that you’ve come back,” said Podrick.

Jon _was_ happier now, too. He told her he was here on Night’s Watch business, but he had been lying then. Speaking of the Night’s Watch, he needed to sort the supplies to be sent out.

“I am glad too, Ser Podrick. And at least now there are no more wars to worry about,” he chuckled. “I was surprised you didn’t go with Brienne to the South.”

“I like it better here now, plus there’s nothing for me in King’s Landing. After Brienne knighted me, Queen Sansa assigned me as one of her guards. I’ve never felt more honored in my life,” he smiled. “And I met someone. She’s one of the queen’s handmaidens, her name’s Maya.” 

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” a new voice chimed in. Jon turned around and saw Ser Davos, and moved to quickly embrace the old man. They patted each other’s back and Davos looked at Jon the way Ned used to, “I hope you have been eating well, my lord.” 

“Aye, Ser Davos. I hope you have been taking care of yourself too,” replied Jon. He couldn’t stop the smile that broke through his face. 

“Ah! Podrick! You've been looking after our queen, have you?” exclaimed Ser Davos, moving to greet him. 

“As well as I could, Ser,” he humbly told the older man. 

“Podrick has been the best guard,” remarked Jon. “A good swordsman, too. He’s certainly improved immensely.” Podrick blushed at the compliment. 

“Come, Ser Davos, Sansa would be thrilled to see you, let me escort you to her solar.” 

_______

Sansa beamed brightly as Davos entered the room, waving away his attempts at courtesy and clasping his hands into her own. “I am pleased you have returned, Ser. Please, have a cup of tea with me. Jon, come.”

Jon closed the door and did as she bid. There were no servants around and Sansa filled their own cups. “How did your travels go?”

“They appreciate the crown’s offer for help, and give their thanks. A few had asked about your hand, your grace. But that was to be expected.”

Marriage, again. Jon was beginning to abhor that word. 

“I told them that any attempts in seeking your hand in marriage must be reviewed by your grace’s closest advisors, and that they should go to Winterfell themselves to prove their worth. Lord Damon came with me, actually, from House Cerwyn. He will be seeking an audience this afternoon, I expect.”

House Cerwyn was only a half a day’s ride from here, and one of their most powerful bannermen. Jon’s fingers gripped the handle of his cup tensely. “He sounds like an ass,” he muttered.

“Jon, you haven’t even met the man,” she asserted.

Davos only looked at the two in fascination before continuing, “Nevertheless, your grace, I hope you may be in good spirits for courting.”

She smiled tightly, “I shall meet with him and we’ll see.”

___________

Jon wasn’t expecting Lord Cerwyn to be handsome and tall. He was younger than him, probably around the same age as Sansa. He hated him on sight. 

“I have heard tales of your beauty,your grace, and not one of them has been exaggerated. You are simply more beautiful than any word could ever describe.” Sansa, however, had been a true lady - courteous and polite as ever. She allowed him to kiss her hand, and smiled as it was expected. 

“Welcome to Winterfell, Lord Cerwyn,” she announced.

“Forgive me for heading straight into the point, your grace. I have come to court you, and express my admiration,” he said.

 _Admiration for a throne_ , scoffed an inner voice in Jon’s head.

“I hope I may be able to know you better, your grace,” he continued.

“Likewise, Lord Cerwyn. Winterfell’s hospitality is open for House Cerwyn, as it always had been. I have other duties to attend to, please excuse me,” they all bowed as she swept from the room. Jon followed her. 

“I don’t like him,” Jon said, walking by her side. 

She sighed. “Of course you don’t.” 

“I’m serious,” 

“I know,” her tone dismissive. He knew he should change the subject now. 

“The brothers of the Night’s Watch are returning to Castle Black tomorrow,” he said. “I will be supervising the supplies they need.”

“Thank you, Jon.”

Ghost bounded up at them as they reached the courtyard. He had been gone overnight hunting, coming and going as he pleased. He licked Sansa’s palm as Jon scratched the back of his ears. “Did you have a good hunt, boy?” Ghost licked his palm and tugged at his cloak. He must have wanted them to follow him. Jon glanced at Sansa and she nodded. They followed Ghost until they reached the Godswood. Ghost tugged at the end of Jon’s clock again, almost excitedly. He leaped towards a Heart Tree, looking expectantly at Jon and Sansa.

She gasped, “Oh, Ghost.”

Under a bush behind the tree lay two sleeping, infant direwolves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAYY direwolves


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jon,”
> 
> “She threatened to burn you, did you know? She told me you must learn to respect her, or else. Why did you think I tried so hard to appease her? To mediate between the two of you? I told you I would protect you, I swore to you that night, before the battle of the bastards, that I wouldn’t let anyone ever touch you again, and I’d be damned if it would be just another vow I break.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut ahead

Jon hacked with a wooden sword at a practice dummy relentlessly, he was frustrated and annoyed, among many other things. He hated Lord Cerwyn, hated that that pompous man had been invited to sit on the high table, hated that he conversed with Sansa and drew an actual smile from her, hated every second he’s still breathing in the castle. 

“I think that the dummy had been dead a long time, my lord,” Ser Davos truly had a penchant of just showing up in places. 

Jon continued to whack at it, pretending not to hear his audience.

“Jon,” Ser Davos tried again.

Jon sighed. “Yes?”

“Queen Sansa sent me, she awaits for you in her solar,” Davos said, “Is there something going on?” 

“No, no, she just must have had something important to say,” he explained hastily.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Davos raised an eyebrow, “I was talking about the dummy you were destroying with so much concentration,” 

“Nothing is going on, Ser Davos. I just had a little pent up energy and an urge to strike something bloody,” he said tersely. “I’m going now, have a good night, Ser.”

The walk back to the Great Keep was uneventful, and he paused in his chambers to clean himself. How could she smile at him like that? The thought made Jon feel physically sick. He washed the dirt off his face and arms, wondering if she asked him to come to tell him that he’s not needed in her bed anymore. His stomach ached at the thought, he had only been back for a few weeks but he had grown used to sleeping next to her. How could he not? Her skin was the best thing he’d ever smelled, the softest thing he’d ever touched. He was unworthy of her, he knew that, because what was he even now? He was an exiled former king, only returning because of a pardon his family had ordained, and he hadn’t even been a king for a long time, kneeling for the dragon queen so quickly, and then to top it all off he killed her too. He was no one now. 

He braced himself before knocking and opening her door. “You should have more guards in here, Sansa.” 

“I let them retire early,” she said calmly, stroking the pups in her lap. The image took him back almost a decade ago, back when everything was still different, when their family had still been alive and complete. 

“I knew you were coming here anyway. You would protect me, and these two,” she added. Ghost was nowhere to be found. 

“Sansa, why am I here?” 

“Why shouldn’t you be?”

“Lord Cerwyn—”

“I don’t really care about Lord Cerwyn.” She kissed the pups and settled them on the rug by the fireplace. “Jon, I was only humoring the man,” she started walking towards him. “Why would I even want him, when I have you in my bed every night? How could he even compare?” 

She pressed her lips against the inside of his wrist. His pulse was thrumming in delight. He closed his eyes. She stepped in closer, kissing the spot right below his ear. He was practically purring now. He drew an arm and caught her waist, bringing their bodies flush, breathing her scent in. “Don’t be upset, Jon,” trailing her lips down his throat. 

“I’m not-”

“You’re not?” Gods, she was driving him insane. 

“He’s handsome, isn’t he? With his golden hair and blue eyes, if I were a girl again I would have been instantly head over heels,” she murmured. 

“Sansa, stop talking,” he rasped, his control was slipping away. 

“Are you jealous, Jon? Because at least you now know what it feels like, watching from the sidelines, while the person you wanted was being wooed over by a pretty stranger. For some reason, this pleases me greatly, knowing that it affects you so,” she continued.

“Daenerys-”

“Don’t say her name. Not in front of me, not while I’m kissing your neck. Don’t you dare, Jon,”

He took a deep breath, “I couldn’t touch you then, you were still my sister, and she wanted me, and I was a weak man. We needed her armies, Sansa, and I was disgusted with myself for using her like that, but it was necessary. She wouldn’t have come to fight for us if I didn’t seduce her, all she wanted was the throne,” she stopped her ministrations. She had wondered for over a year, contemplating of it endlessly it made her ill. 

“You didn’t answer me back then, when I asked you why you bent the knee,”

“I put on a convincing front, Sansa, you taught me that,”  _ I am loyal to my beloved King Joffrey.  _ “We needed her, the same way we needed Baelish for a time, and I couldn’t risk everything and damn the North because of my negligence,” he swallowed. “I was worried, I was so close to losing my damn mind, worrying everyday that she’d suddenly lose her temper and decide to burn Winterfell to the ground, because it was obvious Northmen didn’t trust her, and you were provoking her at every turn, and Arya was no less cold. She wanted people to adore her without question, and she hated that the North didn’t welcome her the way she desperately wanted,”

“Jon,”

“She threatened to burn you, did you know? She told me you must learn to respect her,  _ or else _ . Why did you think I tried so hard to appease her? To mediate between the two of you? I told you I would protect you, I swore to you that night, before the battle of the bastards, that I wouldn’t let anyone ever touch you again, and I’d be damned if it would be just another vow I break.”

She kissed him then, taking his face between her hands, smashing her lips with his. He kissed her back as hard as he could, nipping at her lips until it let him in, sliding his tongue against hers, mapping every corner of her mouth until he tasted all of her. Because he really  _ was _ sick, after all, and kissing her was the only remedy. Her fingers felt good gripping his hair, her lips were soft and addicting, that he thought he could kiss her like this for hours and could never get tired of it. He’d never get tired of her. 

She broke away and panted heavily, before going down on her knees. Jon let out a strangled breath.  _ Gods. _ “Sansa, you don’t have to do this,”

“I want to do this,” she said, unlacing his breeches with her delicate, perfect hands. Like the rest of Jon Snow, his member was frustratingly beautiful. She wasn’t sure how he managed to have a good looking male anatomy, but somehow the gods favored him with beauty, despite the sorrows they sent his way. His cock was long and thick, lined with a few purplish veins and its head looked angry with a white substance leaking off of it. She looked at his eyes before leaning down and licking his head, tasting the salty essence, and he moaned loudly, gripping her hair like his life depended on it. “ _ FUCK _ , Sansa, fuck,  _ please _ ,” he was breathing so hard, trying not to force his hips into her face.

Her hand couldn’t fully encircle his girth. She spat at it and jerked her hand up and down, relishing at his reactions. She took pity on him and wrapped her lips on his head, sucking. He was yelling gibberish now, “Sansa, Sansa, fuck, you look so good, baby, so pretty, your mouth takes me so well, you were made for this, I swear you were, I’ve never seen a sight more beautiful than this.” She bobbed her head up and down, taking his throbbing cock in her warm mouth, making herself get used to the weight of it. Her hand took care of the part she couldn’t take, the other one cupping his balls, and she smiled when he hissed. She broke away for a second to gather her breath, and leaned and took his member in her mouth once more. God, she was sopping wet down there. She could hear Jon saying more praises, but she concentrated on taking more of him, until her lips reached the base of his cock and she could feel it against her throat, and she sucked as hard as she could. 

Jon groaned out expletives, she was sure they could be heard outside the chambers, but she had stopped caring by now. It only made her want to do better, she’d always been a good girl, and loved getting praises from people she liked. She moved her head up and down, the muscles of her throat clenching him tight, and it was unbearable to Jon, it felt like he was in heaven and hell at the same time. His fingers were caressing her hair, while he looked down at her, adoration in his eyes. 

“Sansa, Sansa, Sansa,” he looked like he was in pain, bucking his hips against her as gently as he could, and she did something between sucking and swallowing that took him out, releasing his seed down her throat. He stroked her cheekbones, and pulled her up, kissing her with wild abandon. In a tangle of hands, legs, and mouth, they eventually settled on the bed, and he could taste himself in her mouth that he hardened once more. He trailed kisses down her throat, ripping the laces out, uncaring about ruining her gown. He sucked every expanse of skin he found, licking it, and tore off the tiny shift she wore underneath. Her breasts were heaving, her eyes glossy and her mouth pink, and she looked so innocent, so fucking pure, as if she had not just sucked the life out of him. He bent down to take a nipple into his mouth, supping on it like a babe, his hand playing with her other breast, pinching her nipple. He was an animal when it concerned her, allowing the most primal instincts to take over and giving in to his most depraved wants. 

He streamed kisses all over her chest and then completely giving his attention to her other breast, sucking on her nipple, biting it, enjoying the sounds coming out of her throat. She arched her back, offering herself completely to his mercy, opening her legs to make it easier for him. She urgently tugged on his shirt, moving to remove it off of him. He raised his arms to help her and then they were completely naked, skin on skin, his sweat on hers, and it was sinfully delicious. He moved down to worship her between her thighs, licking the red, glistening lips of her womanhood, his thumb moving to rub the pebble at its crest. She moaned his name, and he liked that, he fucking loved that, he thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He thrust two of his fingers inside, curling it inside, and she bucked her hips, panting in delirium. She cried out for more and he was more than willing to give it to her. 

He sucked on her clit, then moved on to dip his tongue inside of her, relishing at the sweet, tangy, taste. He felt like he was in a banquet and this was his last meal, the way he was going at it. He was determined to make her feel the same pleasure she gave him. His hands gripped both of her thighs, until she was spread wide open, vulnerable and mouthwatering, and all for him. He lapped at her juices, spelling his name on her,  _ j-o-n-s-n-o-w _ , marking her as his. He was ready to weep when she came and he hurriedly thrust his throbbing cock inside to the hilt, both of their cries mixing into one. The slapping of bare skin was deafening, but it was out of their control now. He caught her lips with hers, muffling her moans, while she scratched at his back as he moved his hips. He put both her legs over his shoulders, bending her into an angle that’s going to hurt tomorrow, but she only keened, and he was fucking into her mindlessly, his mind full of her scent, her skin, her moans, her tight, warm, cunt. 

He didn’t know how long he fucked her like that, their bodily fluids leaking out of their sexes that it was ruining her sheets. She loved it, loved being under his control, she was so tired of running the kingdom that it was gratifying to be dominated by him in the privacy of her chambers. It was shameless, and utterly debased, the way they’re rutting like wolves, the way she adored every moment of it. 

“Jon, please, please, please,” she begged.

“Whose are you? Who’s fucking you right now? Who does this cunt belong to?” He drilled into her harder, her cunt getting wetter every second, she was addicted to the feel of his hard cock moving inside her, feeling only ever complete with him inside, and she was moaning like a common whore, begging, begging, begging.

“You, Jon, yours!”

“Say it,”  _ thrust _ , “say,”  _ thrust, “ _ it, _ ” thrust, “say you’re mine,” thrust, “say your cunt is mine, your body is mine, you heart is mine,”  _ his northern accent hoarse against her ears. 

“I’m yours, Jon, my cunt is yours, it’s yours,” she panted uncontrollably, and he kissed her desperately, his hips snapping intently, when he hit that elusive spot within her, she screamed, her climax washing her, her legs shaking. The feel of her cunt clenching around him was too much, but he continued his animalistic rutting. “Sansa, Sansa, Sansa, my sweet girl, you’re so fucking pretty, the prettiest girl,” she moaned. 

“Sansa, let me give you heirs, I’ll put a babe in you and we’ll name him Robb, Sansa, Sansa,” he babbled. She nodded, loving the idea of a babe with Jon’s curls and his Stark grey eyes. “Yes, yes, yes, please, please,” she said, pressing her hands around his buttocks, urging him to get deeper. 

“Fuck, Sansa,” he grunted. He only lasted a few minutes more, thrusting as deep as he could, and spilled his cum. He stayed above her for a few seconds, gathering his breath, and then removing his softening member with an audible squelch. 

He turned her around and embraced her, kissing her forehead, cheeks, her nose. She looked utterly debauched, and he was secretly so pleased. “Good night, Sansa,” he whispered.

“Good night, Jon,” she replied, burrowing her face on his chest. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I do want you,” she said. Moving up and leaning against the headboard, covering herself with furs. 
> 
> “Then tell me you’ll marry me.”
> 
> Silence rang over the room. He was breathing heavily, and his heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. He’d finally said it. After weeks of wondering, waiting, brooding… of driving himself mad. He didn’t know how he found the strength to say that, but he was glad he did. 

Jon woke to a small sound of splashing water. Sansa was across the room, by the basil of water, drawing a wet cloth over her breasts, her stomach, then the apex of her thighs, cleaning herself of the debauchery from the night previous. His cock stirred at the sight. 

“Sansa,” 

She turned to face the bed, smiling slyly at him. 

“Come back here,” he said, holding up at an arm in invitation. She winced slightly as she walked towards him, then he pulled her until she fell on top of him. 

“I feel too sore, Jon,” she whined. He smirked at that and pecked her cheeks, looking proud of himself. “Just lay here with me,” he said. Her fingers trailed across the scars on his chest, pausing to pinch his nipple, and stopped right atop the scar above his heart. She could hear his heartbeat clearly enough, and she wondered if he could hear hers too. 

“Tell me a secret,” she said, her voice soft. 

“What do you want to know?” He asked, playing with the red stands of her hair. 

“Anything,”

He contemplated for a moment and then started, “I never thought I’d go back home. To Winterfell,” he sighed. “If it wasn’t for you I’d have spent the rest of my life freezing at Castle Black, or Beyond the Wall. So thank you.”

She pushed herself up and gazed at him with her Tully blue eyes. “Oh, Jon. You are a wolf, and you belong here in Winterfell, with me,” she said.

He softened, twirling a lock of red hair on his forefinger. “Sansa, what are we doing?”

Silence settled over them. “After a long time of suffering, Jon, it should be perfectly fine for us to give in to what we want. We find comfort in each other, and I don’t want this to end.”

He inhaled sharply. “Is that what this is? Just comfort?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sansa, when you get married, do you expect me to just stand aside?”

“I don’t—”

“You are going to get married. And this will have to end.”

“I don’t want to fight right now—”

“But we need to talk about this. For the sake of my sanity, at the least. Please.”

She sighed, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything,”

“Jon—”

“Is this just a good time, then? A final romp before settling down with a random lord so he could give you babies and he’ll get a crown in return. Am I just warming your bed for him?”

“Jon, you know that—”

“That what?”

She exhaled. How can things go wrong so quickly? “You are not just a bed warmer.”

“What am I, then?”

“You’re my family. What do you want me to say? Why is this pinned on me all of a sudden?”

He stood up, pacing by the bed, uncaring of his naked form.

“I want you to say that you want me, all right? That you want me as much as I want you, because—”

“I do want you,” she said. Moving herself up and leaning against the headboard, covering herself with furs. 

“Then tell me you’ll marry me.”

Silence rang over the room. He was breathing heavily, and his heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. He’d finally said it. After weeks of wondering, waiting, brooding… of driving himself mad. He didn’t know how he found the strength to say that, but he was glad he did. 

As far as marriage proposals go, this must be the worst one yet, he thought.

“Sansa, please, say something,” he begged. He kneeled down the bed, catching her hands and interlocking their fingers. He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, “I will be good to you, I promise. We will raise our children right, and we could name them Ned, Robb, Rickon, Brandon, whatever you want. I know I don’t have the best track record of my experience with any of my lovers, but I promise I will love you forever, and I will never betray you, and I will try to make you happy for the rest of our lives,” the nervousness in his voice betraying him. “Just say something, please.”

Was time supposed to tick as slow as this? He was ready to die any moment now. But when she smiled at him, and his relief was palpable. “All right.”

“All right?” He asked, his tone incredulous. 

“All right, I’ll marry you.”

“Really?” He was smiling so hard, he felt like his face was about to split into two.

“Really,” she said. She yelped when he suddenly lifted her and whirled her, and she laughed in delight. He kissed her, slowly, fervently, trying to etch every curve of her lips into his memory. They went back to lying on the bed, but without the intention of having another frenzied fuck. They were relaxed as they could be, grinning like idiots at one another. 

“Say it to me again,” she said. He raised his eyebrows. “The part where you told me you love me,” 

“I love you.”

She raised his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Good, because I love you too. I wouldn’t have raised an army to come get you in King’s Landing if I didn’t, you know.” 

“When you asked me to forgive you just before I went back to Castle Black, you should know that there wasn’t anything to forgive. When I told you of my parentage, I knew on some level that you weren’t going to keep it to yourself,” he sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything back then.”

“It’s all right, Jon. It’s in the past now,” she replied, laying her head on his chest. He smelled of leather, and sweat, and of Jon Snow.

“Now you tell me a secret,” he said.

“When I was stuck in the Red Keep, I used to dream that Robb would defeat every Lannister army and come rescue me,” she exhaled. “When news reached me that he died, I started dreaming of having children and naming them after the brothers I lost. I used to dream of many things, that Joffrey would somehow get a horrible disease and die, that the Kingsguard who beat me would be sent away, that a hero would come and punish Janos Slynt, the same way he shoved father on to the block, and cut his head off.”

“Janos Slynt? The previous commander of the city watch?” She nodded. 

“I killed Slynt. He became a brother at the Night’s Watch. When I was Lord Commander, he refused to obey my order, and I had to take off his head for it. I wish I could do it again, I didn’t even know he took part in fa- Uncle Ned’s execution back then.”

She turned to face him and kissed the top of his nose, “Perhaps you are the hero the gods sent me, Jon Snow.” 

_______________

The great hall was alive with supper, with many northmen coming to court to pay their respects to the crown. Most were drinking with the untroubled ease that came with the absence of war. Jon was seated next to Sansa, and Davos to his left. He had been acting as the Maester at Arms and in the queen’s council for over a month now, and people have long stopped giving him looks.

Lord Cerwyn stayed as well, to Jon’s annoyance. He had trained himself to ignoring the man’s existence, laughing inwardly at his every pathetic attempt to court Sansa. Many tried to get close to her graces, bringing many gifts and flowers, but at the end of the day he was the one who had his arms around her while she slept. That was enough for him. 

Under the table he feeds the pups, whom Sansa had taken to calling male Winter and the female, Spring. They were adorable pups, he mused. He wondered where Ghost had gotten them from, or if he was the one who’d fathered them. He had grown used to Ghost’s eccentricities, and loved that about him. 

“If I may, your grace,” Lord Cerwyn cleared his throat. “I hope this is not a bad time to bring into focus once more the subject of your marriage. It is for the North, after all.”

The new Lord Glover yelled, “hear, hear! The north needs its heirs, and the sooner would be better, your grace!”

Sansa blinked slowly, trying to summon her patience. “My lords, the birth of an heir is of utmost importance, indeed, and at the top of my priority. I would like to use this opportunity to announce whom I will be marrying.”

“There are many respectable suitors to choose from, your grace, who are more than willing to take the Stark name, and—”

“That is not needed, my lords,” interrupted Jon. They stared at him in question. “I will marry my cousin Sansa,” he declared. 

A pin drop. 

“Your grace?”

“Is it true, your grace!”

“He’s a Targaryen!” Came many dissents.

“Enough!” Sansa’s voice boomed. “He is my Aunt Lyanna’s son, and a prince of the realm, no less. There is no one more suitable for my hand.”

“Anyone would be welcome to challenge me in a duel for her grace’s hand,” asserted Jon. He was being arrogant, he knew, but he couldn’t care less. No one could beat him in a single combat, and everyone in the hall acknowledged that. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised, my lord, ” Ser Davos chuckled. “I always knew something was going on between you two. Your tension could have cut glass.”

_________

_Five years later_

Robb Stark came into the world four years ago, red, kicking and wailing. He had ten fingers and ten toes, and a patch of curly black hair and a pair of Tully blue eyes, and was simply the most beautiful baby to ever be alive — as Jon would boast to his men. 

Theon Stark came a year after him, silent and all piercing gray eyes. He followed Robb everywhere as soon as he could walk, and the servants all said it was like seeing young Robb and Jon walking the hallways again, always on to their next mischief. These two princes were adored by all, and they used that to entice more cake from the kitchen maids. The direwolves took them as their own, looking after them like their own personal guards. 

Sansa was as big as a house again, going irritable day by day. He hoped their next child would be a girl; it would have been nice to dote on a baby girl as sweet as Sansa, or as wild as Arya. They both stood overlooking the courtyard, watching as Robb and Ned sparred against each other. Podrick was their Master at Arms now, and had taken it upon himself to teach the young princes how to handle a sword. They were prodigies, he said daily, and the boys looked up at him.

Bran and Arya visited sporadically, Bran being kept to his kingly duties and Arya travelling through Westeros, but they sent presents to the kids every year. Jon knew that Arya spent most of her time with Gendry in the South, and was patiently waiting for news that they were to be married. He wagered a bet with Sansa that it would be before the baby arrived, and Sansa was firm in her belief that it would take a lot longer than that for Arya to settle down. They were happy for her, though, and only wished the best for her.

If someone had told Jon when he was still Lord Commander that this was how his life was going to be, he would have laughed and proclaimed them insane. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it, how lucky he’d been. He drew an arm across Sansa’s waist as they watched Robb whack at Theon with a wooden sword. The world only took and took from him, but as he looked at his family, perhaps the gods didn’t hate him as much as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought about making this much longer and angsty, but i didn't want them to suffer and uni is driving me insane. thank you for reading though! muwah <3


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